


Shades of Green

by missroserose



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Short One Shot, The Upside Down, dumb idiot boys having dumb idiot arguments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27435745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missroserose/pseuds/missroserose
Summary: Something in this place makes Billy’s eyes look different.  They’re not blue, here, not really—more of a muddied dark green, as if even the light isn’t clean or clear enough for them to reflect.  Steve wonders, for a moment, how long it’s been since he’s seen anything blue.Days, at least.  He doesn't want to think about how many.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	Shades of Green

“Are you sorry, Harrington? Are you _sure_?”

Something in this place makes Billy’s eyes look different. They’re not blue, here, not really—more of a muddied dark green, as if even the light isn’t clean or clear enough for them to reflect. Steve wonders, for a moment, how long it’s been since he’s seen anything blue—tries to remember how long they’ve been stuck here, drinking brackish water from puddles, surviving on sour-tasting berries and occasional fungi that so far has a fifty-fifty chance of giving them crazy energy or sending them on a really bad trip. 

Days, at least. He doesn’t want to think about how many.

Steve shuts his eyes, focuses on the sensation of Billy’s fingers around him. On Billy’s breath, panting into his, their foreheads pressed together in the shelter of a tree. “What else do you want me to say?”

There’s plenty he could say, he supposes. Things like _I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about this crazy supernatural shit._ Or possibly _I’m sorry I didn’t tell you not to go poking in the woods._ Or even _I’m sorry I was so busy arguing with you that we walked right into that sinkhole,_ though he’s pretty certain that one’s only half his fault.

But then, there’s things Billy could say, too. Like _I’m sorry you wrenched your arm fighting off that demo-dog that was going to eat my face_ , for one. Plus, their cocks are rubbing together in a way that makes his toes curl. Just a little too dry. A little too rough. A little too insistent, that makes it hard to form words.

Besides, there’s nothing new in this argument. They’ve trodden this ground over and over again, criss-crossing their own tracks the way they’ve been criss-crossing this twisted overgrown abandoned version of Hawkins, constantly in search of a way out that seems forever just out of reach. It’s maddening. Literally—Steve’s beginning to wonder if he’s going mad, if they’re just reliving the same day over and over again.

This, though, the two of them, together—this is new. The demo-dog attack was new. Billy getting this funny look on his face when Steve fought it off with his nail-covered baseball bat—Steve turning, holding up the gore-covered weapon, about to say something triumphant—Billy pressing him up against the nearest tree, lips on his despite the fact that they haven’t showered in days, making Steve frantic with his energy—undoing each other’s pants, both of them rock-hard, and Billy somehow _continuing the argument_ even as their hands curl around each other, as he rocks his hips against Steve’s, as Steve gasps out a little cry—

“Tell me you’re not going to leave me here.”

And, oh. Steve’s eyes fly open. _That’s_ new, too.

Billy’s eyes are dark on his, a sliver of gray-green iris around a dilated pupil. Steve wonders for a moment if he ate one of the bad mushrooms—but then Billy’s thumb brushes over his head, slicks it with precome, and Steve’s sucking in a breath, the world a little brighter around him. 

“I won’t.” The words tumble from Steve’s lips like rocks, like flowers, like precious jewels, sparkling bright in this hellish landscape. “Billy, I won’t—you’re mine, I won’t leave you—we’re gonna make it out of here—we’re gonna feel normal again, I promise—“ 

Maybe he’s the one who’s high. Mind careening off in directions he never realized it could—

Billy’s eyes blaze, his breath goes ragged, and a moment later his head jerks upward, warm liquid spilling over their conjoined hands. Steve holds him, squeezes him, strokes him through it until he’s shuddering, until they’re both shuddering, the extra slick sending him careening close to the edge—then Billy’s forehead is against his once more, breathing broken words into Steve’s space—“fuck yes, just like that, you’re going to get us out of here like the fuckin’ hero that you are—“

God, maybe they’re both tripping—but if that’s what it takes to break them out of this—

Then Steve’s the one who’s shuddering apart, breaths turning into sharp little gasps, crying out as his spunk mingles with Billy’s, as, for a moment, he _feels_ Billy, his constant anger, the absolute terror that the anger covers—understands him in a way that’s always eluded him, before.

They stand there for a moment, breathing heavily, jizz cooling on their hands. Steve chances a look up, meets Billy’s eyes, still that muddy gray-green, but—a little more open, somehow.

He wonders how his own look, to Billy.

Then Billy pulls away, wipes his hand off on his pants ( _gross_ , Steve thinks, but then—well, where else is he going to put it?) , does up his pants. “Well. Where to next, pretty boy?”

And Steve…smiles. The muscles feel rusty with disuse, but he coaxes them, and soon enough they remember the gist of it. 

“You know what? I’m sick of Hawkins.”

Billy blinks. Slowly, one corner of his mouth lifts. He shoves his hands in his pockets, settles back into his leather jacket. “This town always was too small for the two of us.”

“Well, then.” Steve wipes his own hand on his jeans, puts himself back together. Shoulders his bat. Flashes his Tom Cruise smile, all pearly whites and vicious underpinnings. The smile that made him King Steve, back in the day. “Let’s go find someplace new.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like all writers, I live for feedback—come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://missroserose.tumblr.com/)!


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